Each Fall the graves of my grandfathers call me, the brown hills and red gullies of mississippi send out their electric messages,… — Etheridge Knight Copy Share Image
To write a blues song is to regiment riots and pluck gems from graves. — Etheridge Knight Copy Share Image
Each Fall the graves of my grandfathers call me, the brown hills and red gullies of mississippi send out their electric messages, galvanizing my… — Etheridge Knight Copy Share Image
Let all Black Poets die as trumpets, And be buried in the dust of marching feet. — Etheridge Knight Copy Share Image
Black Poets should live--not leap From steel bridges, like the white boys do. — Etheridge Knight Copy Share Image
I died in 1960 from a prison sentence and poetry brought me back to life. — Etheridge Knight Copy Share Image
I boil my tears in a twisted spoon And dance like an angel on the point of a needle. — Etheridge Knight Copy Share Image